


Crystal Crimson

by Not_Even_a_Cupcake_Survived



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Lorne Malvo POV, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_Even_a_Cupcake_Survived/pseuds/Not_Even_a_Cupcake_Survived
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorne Malvo encounters the high school student Lester Nygaard, and is immediately struck by an abstract connection between the two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entry 1

    This is my diary you will be reading. I will leave it here in my hut; but it’s probable that I will move away in the near future. I will take it with me everywhere, until the point where I will be killed. Assured, I will be killed; someone like me does not pass away peacefully in his bed at the age of eighty, in a retirement community. Maybe just a day ahead, or decades ahead, but I will be killed by either a knife or a bullet.   
    Who am I? Outside, I appear as what one would describe as a pretty typical psychopath. I’ve been murdering and manipulating since I’ve had a sense of self-awareness. People go to universities to learn a trade, be it economics, medicine, physics. I see what I do similar to those who practice these jobs. I like to challenge myself at it. I like to devise new strategies. This is my game in a way, and while a “normal” human would obviously object to killing anyone at all, and frown at the manipulations, I see nothing inherently right or wrong with this world. All that lies in this life I’m living are possibilities. They either happen, or they don’t. If I come knocking at your door one day, -or perhaps I’ll just knock the door off-, and point the gun at you and kill you, there will be absolutely nothing for you to object to. You may be the president of a country, but when I’m standing with a gun pointed at your bare and fragile skin, everything you’ve accumulated over this life loses meaning. The books you’ve read on philosophy, the years you’ve spent educating yourself, the time and work you’ve spent for your own sake and your family; poof. All that it takes to destroy this abstract treasure is one bullet that will pierce your skull, shutting down your entire system, forever and ever. The gun makes me more powerful than you are. My mind is more powerful than yours; it’s capable of creating strategies to destroy your own. In the end, it is a matter of who survives and who doesn’t; if I have outlived you, if I have managed to destroy your gift of life with a single bullet, then I am satisfied. It is this satisfaction that keeps my candle lit.  
    Yet, often, we psychopaths are taken essentially for androids with a lack of any soul, emotion or depth. That is the impression I leave outside; you really would see no genuine emotion from me whatsoever. I have just taught myself how to act out human emotions over time, but in fact, deep down I do have my own emotions. It is just that emotions put me into great disadvantage in my game of achieving greater power, but more and more I realize now, emotions attach to you like slugs. Just as I think I’ve recovered from my childhood memories, which I will be telling you as we advance, one faint piece of the whole puzzle appears and the memories come striking back. Just a couple of days ago, I recall waking up from a nightmare about my father.   
    I know I am not invincible physically, but my soul is not without an Achilles’ heel as well. That is why I’ve started this diary: to spit out this poison of dishonesty that I have to stick with in real life. These words here will clear the pus in my soul; at least that is what I hope, so I will be completely honest with you. I may be a murderer, a bad guy, but everyone has to do what he needs, and it is this purification of soul that I need. Bad guys are not without souls. 


	2. Entry 2

Today, I have seen someone who sparked genuine emotions in me. It was in a high school.

It was one of my “days off”, that is, days that I go scouting institutions for any kind of opportunity. I had dressed up like a visiting teacher, mostly avoiding conversations, but saying casual “Hi’s” and “How are you’s”. In the breaks, one kid particularly stroke me: a young boy of short stature and sleek blond hair, who apparently suffered from bullying. He was taunted quite often, and usually appeared to ignore what was being said to him about his mother being a whore, or how small his dick was, or how he wouldn’t be able to hold his dick up even if he managed to score. Towards the end of the break, I saw the bully slide in a used condom into his locker through a narrow slit. I sat down on a near bench and waited again, only to see a similar procedure repeat. The blonde boy did not seem to put up a fight back, not even with words. He casually picked up the condom and dunked it into his pocket as the bully watched with great appreciation. “Dude, that thing’s going to wet your pockets with cum, man!”

I picked up a newspaper and decided to follow him until the end of school. Strangely enough, he went up to talk with a girl at the end of school, only to turn back without saying anything when the girl pointed out that “something was dripping from his pockets.”

He then started ascending the stairs. I managed to follow him to the very top floor with ease, and I still knew he had not detected me, or maybe just ignored me. High school kids these days know the drama play really well. 

He then walked into a classroom, emptied by then, and waited. When the hallways emptied as well, I slid the door open slightly. He was sitting on the windowsill, his hands clinging back on, shaking, shaking madly. 

I told him, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He said back, “Yeah, it’s not like I’m assigned to it or anything. This is something I am choosing to do. You know, people who object to suicide... what’s the point? Why is your life so fucking important? I didn’t choose to be born. I was forced into this world when a man came in a woman. The hormones, the biology, the meaning of life, whatever, you could question all these. I have a switch off; everyone does. Let me go, and at least I may get an opportunity, a fresh try, at something new. And even if I find myself in absolute nothingness, lacking any consciousness or any material or immaterial body, I am still more grateful for that than I am for this life.”

That was the first time he had stroke me. I had never encountered someone speak so deeply, and with incredible vengeance in the voice. That was almost me, from my childhood... Except that I had hidden everything inside me back then. 

“You do realize your death will result in absolutely nothing. Suicidal teenagers are everywhere these days; you’re nothing new. There is no gain in it for you. Believe me, there is so much else to live.”

“So much else to live? I don’t know who you are, but do you know who you are talking to? It’s just... Life’s bullshit. It’s come to a point of no return. I’m done. And just like any other human, I look for the easiest way out, which is this. I am done with it. I am done with this school, with these meaningless, stupid people. Maybe if they see how far they’ve foolishly gone, they will make a change in their lives. That would at least partially satisfy me.”

His eyes had gone large. His eyes had a Northern European blue, a very cold blue, and they were inflated and coated with tears. They stroke me hard, I am admitting. I’ve lost the count of bodies I’ve murdered since I have adopted my job, or better: my job had adopted me. I can tell you very reliably that I’ve felt absolutely nothing as I’ve destroyed those lives, maybe except for a victorious pang of satisfaction, the classic “in-your-face” feeling. Except for one book I’d finished all the way back in high school, back in the years when I was a weakling hiding in a shell, I hadn’t shed a single tear. But as this boy, of no importance to the world and society, uttered his words, I felt the emotion in me being resurrected from dead. 

It wasn’t strong enough to make me fall on my knees to beg for him not to jump. It wasn’t strong enough to make me cry along with him too. It’s been a long while that I’d understood, emotions are rarely ever a potent weapon of persuasion. In fact, any emotion shown to the world is a self-harming dagger that pierces a piece of one’s shield. However fiery the emotions grew in me, I had conditioned myself not to show any. Especially sympathy, the worst of the emotions. As this boy trembled in his place and shed his tears, the fire inside me grew to tell me that, no, he is not jumping down. 

It was almost as if I was seeing my reflection, right in the mirror, about to be broken. I couldn’t let it be broken. I couldn’t see myself die. I had died a many times already in this life, and I couldn’t stop now, I couldn’t stop killing and re-compensating for my losses, I couldn’t let it return. I couldn’t let this boy go. 

“I can see it in you. Believe me, I was just like you, back in your age. I observed you throughout the day. I went through similar things as well. It’s not easy and I do understand you fully recognize this as a way out. In fact, I do too; but did you consider other options? Perhaps it’s mere fate that has brought me here, and yes, it absolutely is nothing but mere fate, but I cannot let you go right now. Seeing you die there will be my death as well. I do not allow you to die.”

    “What’s with the sudden pep talk? Why am I suddenly so important to you? Are you a man sent here by the school counselor?”  
    “No, no, no, no... absolutely I am not sent by your school. What is your name?”  
    “Um... Lester.”  
    “Lester, I am a serial murderer. I do it for a living.”

    “Right... hey, what if you shoot me right here? I’ll die, and you’ll get some enjoyment out of it, maybe. Though the shots could be easily heard around, and you’ll be in trouble.”

“Lester, no. Can’t you see? You are a vision of my youth. The words you just said there... Do you know how much meaning they had for a poor soul like mine? Lester, tell me what’s bothering you, and I can deal with it. In fact, we can deal with it. Join me, and I promise, and I’m not lying, your problems will sublimate into the air. For once in my life, I have felt something. I am no God, nor do I believe in him, but I have chosen you. I see the fire in your eyes. Together, we can strive towards perfection.”

And with that, he slowly turned back and had a land back onto the floor of the classroom. I found myself smiling genuinely. I could feel the tears about to be expulsed from my glands, but did not allow it. For now, I had done what I had to. 

And hell, did Lester look attractive! 

 


End file.
